I Don't Need A Superhero
by spazmoid
Summary: This boy is Craig Tucker, and this is his story of how to fall, pick yourself up, and fall (in love). - Warnings (for current and future chapters): Minor Character Death, Child/Domestic Abuse, Non-Con, Graphic Depictions of Violence. - Updates Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
1. Chapter 1

South Park, Colorado- early September. Autumn leaves are strewn on the ground, fallen from now frozen trees. All of the houses are still. The wind and the occasional straggling hobo are the only things breaking the silence of the night. Walk along the street and you will think the houses are peaceful, quiet. The serenity of their appearance covers any suspicions of the persons inside. The night is replaced as the sky brightens to a dark dawn, the sun not even having yet woken from its slumber beyond the mountains.

If you walk along the frozen pavement, you will pass a house that is like all the others in the neighbourhood; A white house with a small balcony overlooking an immaculate lawn, solar powered light beams over the walkway from small lamps along the sides. The only differentiating factor is a teenage boy sitting outside. A cigarette is pursed tightly between his lips as he blows grey smoke that disappears into a foggy haze. His face is indifferent, despite having replaced his usual navy gloves with a pair of caking crimson.

This boy is Craig Tucker, and this is the night his life changed dramatically.

Craig stares at the dried blood, watching as it goes from red to crimson to a dark indigo in the light of the moon. He hears silence inside, and outside he can hear the sounds of distant sirens. He knows exactly what street they'll turn on, the house they will arrive to. He knows because he called them. Dark nonchalance had been in his voice when he had told them the news. They'll find him like that: still smoking a burning cigarette as he stares blankly at painted hands. Hands painted in the memory of a father that received karma through a long kitchen knife aimed straight for his black, black heart.

Craig's mind is empty even as the moonlight illuminating his fingers is replaced with bright red and blue flashes. The flashing lights belong to the police cars that are nearing their destination. One, then another, and then another. He does not hear the sirens nor the whispering families as nosy neighbours peek outside their doors clad in housecoats and slippers. He can only hear the nothingness that is wrapping his mind up in a blanket. The nothing that has been his best friend for years.

"Sir?"

A voice breaks the nothing, and a small twitch in his fingers tells the officer Craig has heard him. The officer's gaze is met as cold indigo eyes pierce into his. The indigo so dark, that at that moment they appear a sombre black. He acknowledges the officer with that gaze, words not wanting to crawl from his throat to his tongue. They want to join their companions hiding in the apathetic boy's silence. They want to be held within the prison of a shattering, cheating heart and a static mind.

The officer stares back, almost stumbling over the look in Craig's eyes. It is a look of cold indifference. A chilling indifference that can frost the already freezing night. Before he can remember what he is going to say, another officer joins him and steals away Craig's attention. Well, at least any attention Craig had paid.

The officer asks questions, but is met with answers so lack in their complexity that they are a bit frustrating. It's the last question that seems to make Craig do it again: that small twitch of his fingers that tells the officers he hears them clearly. "She did not mean to" is the simple sentence he says as he seems to be done with talking.

They do not know which "she" he is talking about, but when they leave him and enter the house, the crime scene is surreal. There is blood on the walls; blood from small and large hands smeared as if someone had been finger-painting in it. It leads to the kitchen where the table is turned over and a broken bottle of whiskey is shattered on the floor. Clear glass peppers the tile, threatening to cut any bare feet that decide to enter.

The officers walk on until they reach the side door of the kitchen. More blood. It is on the knob, as if someone turned it in a fumbling, running hurry. Outside, they can see a man with red hair facedown in a pile of autumn leaves. They find a girl with the same coloured hair sitting beside the body with the same cold indifference as her brother. She is sitting beside the corpse with a cigarette trembling between bloodied fingers. A mother beside her sobs, lacking the calmness her children have.

Before they open their mouths to speak, they are met with the mother's cry as she sobs and confesses. Mrs. Tucker's hands shake as she begs for them to help her as she tells them it was an accidental homicide brought on by a slow homicide in the three of them. A homicide that has killed her children's ability to express and her ability to cope. Murder of the mind and heart, pure and simple.

They take her as well as the daughter who is still sitting in the cold, wet grass. She is not looking at the body but at the peaceful horizon. Her eyes hardly move. Not even when she is forced onto her feet and taken to a car to join her mother and brother does she turn her eyes away. The town is too small to be able to afford more transportation. Their father, the mother's husband, is going to get his transport through a black body bag.

People on the street watch as the flashing lights of the car escorts the three away. None of them are looking out the window. They do not face the whisperers, the gossips, or the just-passersby. They only face the floorboard of the silent police vehicle. None of them dare to look up at each other. Craig feels like he's falling, and he is sure the others feel the same. They're all falling down, which seems impossible from the hell they have just come from; a living nightmare they have finally awoken from only to be taken to another.

A dimly lit room, and cold coffee Craig does not drink, greet him at the police station. More questions from the officers and detectives he does not answer. Craig merely just says the same things in a different way. He offers them no evidence, collaborating in only the smallest way possible. When he wishes to be there no longer, his indigo eyes look up and meet the glass. It is as if he could see through it and to the officers listening on the other side. Craig then looks back at the detective in front of him and voices his thoughts. "I want to go home."


	2. Chapter 2

Home turns out to be with a solemn faced social worker who takes the two teenagers with her to a small car. They leave through the back entrance, avoiding the lights of waiting cameras and hungry paparazzi eager to hear more of a tale of horror, love lost, and murder. She talks to them on the drive and asks them of their family. Craig is the one who answers. Ruby is too busy watching the passing trees as they leave their old home and begin driving to the outskirts of town. She is watching the passing lights with empty eyes, Craig only momentarily looking before turning away.

The house they reach is one Craig knows oh so very well. He feels a small relief, but it is so small he can barely even register it. The horrors of that night are plaguing his mind as well as his shell of a sister's. The door they knock on is answered by an older woman with hair that still retains some of its black colour despite her age. Her eyes are violet like the boy in front of them and their family resemblance is so strong, the social worker wonders for a second if this is the boy's mother rather than the blond, indigo-eyed woman sitting in a lonely cell.

She looks at the three in front of her with cloudy eyes, worry etching her features to add more wrinkles to her already wrinkled face. The social worker says she must explain inside. They walk in together, the woman taking Craig and Ruby's hands to lead them. The two had been standing there alone on the porch as if they might just blow away in the wind. Craig is the only one even mildly registering anything. Ruby seems to barely be hanging on. She is a statue in the bedroom they are taken to, Craig unable to look at her. Their grandmother leaves to discuss paperwork with the social worker, amongst other things.

Craig crawls onto the bed, being so very tired. He is exhausted from the night. He is exhausted from being alive. He is tired of everything. He can barely register Ruby lying facedown beside him. Her body feels cold, rather than retaining its usual warmth. She curls into a ball at his side, neither of them wishing to gather their energy and pull up the coverlets. "Is this better?" Craig hears her ask in a deadpanned voice, a voice lacking the emotions she is trying to hide away.

Craig is silent, unable to find an answer. "... Go to sleep," he finally says. The question is left hanging in the air as they close their eyes to everything. Craig unconsciously puts a protective arm around his sister while she sleeps. His sister does the same, both of them so close together it is possible to see the family bond they hold even in their slumber. The sibling bond is never displayed on their faces or in their voice. You can only catch it in moments like this.

They awake like that: Craig waking up first, tangled with Ruby. He slips away from her to find his grandmother in the kitchen holding a shaky coffee mug. She looks at Craig and pours him some of the hot chocolate she's warmed on the stove. She knows exactly what the boy likes. His eyes still downcast, he shuffles over to accept the cup and joins her at the table. It is then that he tells her the events of that night in a steady voice, eyes never wavering from the hot chocolate in front of him. His hands are stirring it with a peppermint stick, to busy themselves with the trivial task to keep from fidgeting.

The story Craig tells is one of trickery. A blonde being taken for a redhead's guilt. His sister's salvation brought only through the loss of another. "She did not mean to," he says once again, as if repeating the sentence will make it reality. To Craig this reality is so unreal that everything to him is a lucid dream. He speaks, lost within his dying dreams, his voice sounding like a weighted monotone as he continues. "She was tired. We were all tired." It is amazing how his voice refuses to show the sudden sadness and hopelessness he holds within. His eyes, the only things that refuse to obey his iron will, made to make sure no one ever knows. To make sure that the picture perfect house continues to hold the secrets of drunken slurs and fists in eyes. Makeup and long sleeves are used to cover up cigarette burns and violet blossoms of bruises.

His grandmother nods in understanding. His grandmother, his Nana, is the only one who ever seems to completely understand him. She is the only one allowed to. She offers him comfort through an arm around his shoulder and peppermint hot chocolate rather than actual words. One of the few sugary things he indulges in. "Want to help me with breakfast?" she asks with a small smile. Craig nods before standing up and walking to the fridge.

They make a small breakfast meant for three. The third of their little party wakes up with dishevelled hair and black-rimmed eyes despite the sleep she had. Ruby looks at the breakfast and accepts it silently. She does not look at either of them as she takes small bites of a blueberry muffin. "I'm sorry," she finally says in a voice so low that they're all lucky to hear it in the noise-free kitchen. "I'm so sorry," she says, her voice cracking as despondence gives way to hidden pain.

Craig watches her display, unable to show it himself. His practice at indifference has been going on much longer than Ruby's, and he can wear his mask much better. "It will be fine," he says to ease her mind, and then he smiles at her. A small smile he forces onto his lips to show the tiny relief he really does feel. Every play must end, and they have just reached their final act. The actors still wearing their masks, except in that flitting moment when Craig allows his to crack. Then it is gone, the smile washed away with a fork of scrabbled eggs.

He is continuing to tell himself everything is fine.


	3. Chapter 3

It is the weeks after that that seem like drawn-out months. A broken brother and a broken sister hold hands in a rare show of public affection as they walk to school. They both smoke cigarettes, letting the nicotine and smoke burn their throats, a welcome warmth in the frosty air.. They barely say a word, and when they do it is about things they find safe. They are talking of what his grandmother is planning to make for dinner when they reach the front of the middle school. Ruby hesitates before letting go of his hand and walking up the concrete steps with wavering confidence. A girl with dirty blond hair that appears brown meets her with a smile Craig could see even from his place on the sidewalk.

Craig thinks Ruby is lucky. Her friends are still there to offer smiles, warmth, and comfort. Her luck never seems to run out in any circumstance. "That's the guy whose mother snapped and..." is just one whisper he manages to pick amongst the crowd as he walks through the hallways of his school. He meets coffee brown eyes at some point, but they only turn away. Twitching fingers focus on a locker rather than the friend he has left behind as just another worry behind the thoughts of gnomes and alien invasions. He is standing next to another who also refuses to meet his gaze, choosing to bury his face in the newest issue of Tacoman instead. Craig does not even think of the third of their broken four-person party. He had left the group in freshman year for a girl with cropped black hair and intelligent brown eyes. It is the friends that are now leaving him that he misses. A longing he will never admit to, even as he is slammed into lockers by the few hate-filled students who remain in the school. The students who wait for someone to be abandoned by hope just so they can kick them while they are on the ground.

Craig wipes blood from his mouth, used to the beatings as he stands up on shaky legs in the boy's restroom. He can probably take two or three, but four guys are really too much for a fair fight. He stumbles to the bathroom mirror and picks through his bag for the makeup he needs to apply to cover up the scars on his face from straggled tile and rough brick walls. He reminds himself that this is just another part of life. He tells himself he is fine despite that nagging feeling he is not. The feeling he always ignores when he walks away from the place he had been resting in flitting pain. He makes sure his steps are steady as he arrives late to his Chemistry class. He ignores the stares people give him and just chooses his usual seat in the back. It is harder for them to turn back and watch him this way.

The seat Craig chooses is usually without a partner, but this day is different. A blond boy with bored, bright cyan eyes is staring at the teacher with a look that says he has no idea what she is talking about. Craig wonders for a second if he should move to the empty table at his left, but class has already resumed on. He does not desire bringing any more attention to himself, so he decides to just stay still. Maybe if he is quiet enough the blond will leave him alone.

Craig zones out soon enough. His fingers are doing that thing they do with his sleeves. The subtle pulling and tugging is a kind of anchor for him to stay in the world with everyone else. Otherwise, there is that unconscious fear of knowing he just might slip away. He hardly even notices the one beside him is talking to him, but maybe he just does not want to notice. In his mind everything means nothing while the nothing means everything.

"You're Craig Tucker right?" the boy asks to break the ice barrier forming between them. He has been pestering Craig for the last several minutes. All of his questions remain unanswered but saying Craig's name seems to elite a response.

Craig nods and places a name with the face in front of him. He tastes the name along with small memories of a childhood destroyed too soon. "You're McCormick," he says as if it is a fact he knows very well. By the time their eyes meet, they are that sombre black colour that sends chills through guidance counsellors and teachers. Craig is still lost in his own blank mind.

Kenny looks surprised that Craig knows his name. He nods and then grins happily. "We should be partners for the rest of the year," he states in the same way Craig had stated his name. It is a factual command that Craig feels hesitant to nod to. He's sure Kenny is the only one willing to be his partner, and the only one who has offered. Everyone else avoids him like the plague. It is as if they think his social pariah status is some kind of contagious disease. Perhaps they are right. Maybe Craig is better off alone.

Kenny grins when Craig does not object to the idea. His bright-eyed blues hardly missed a thing, and he sees something in Craig Tucker. A loneliness he covers up with fists, an apathetic face, and numerous silent and verbal fuck you's. Yes. He believes that all the other really needs is a friend, and he is readily willing to provide it. Then again, it could be his own selfish desire to be needed rather than his usual expendable status. "Great," he says his grin diminishing to a wide smile.

The word Kenny said had not been used in a sarcastic manner or a lie of false cheer. Kenny never lies, and when he does it is only to help others. The way Kenny says the word takes Craig by surprise more than the word itself. He steadies his nerves with a quick head turn back to the teacher, averting his gaze from Kenny McCormick. He does not wish to gain a new friend, but it seems as if he has.


	4. Chapter 4

Later on, Craig learns his assumption to be true. He is walking out of the school building through a side exit via the theatre when he is ambushed by a guy from behind. He turns to strike only to be hit on his back. He falls forward, hands outstretched to catch the asphalt. The small pebbles scrape off the skin of his palms, but his pain is blinded by his pride which tells him he is not a coward. He coughs once, wiping blood from his mouth and gives his attackers the middle finger as he stares at the blood soaking his black gloves.

Maybe it would have been wiser for Craig to save his favourite finger for when he got to his feet, but Craig had not been thinking. His consequence to his finger reflex was a kick to the stomach while he is still on his knees. He falls again, and his face slams into the concrete as he struggles not to cough again. Coughing, pain, crying, and emotion are all things he does not even consider as the familiarity of his situation passes through him.

As the boot hits Craig's back he manages to pick the pieces of a broken memory. His lucidity brought on by a headache making it hard for him to focus. He manages to count three boys before one of them hoist him up so the other can kick him openly. The cough Craig had been holding in leaves his mouth and hacks, and it is getting harder to ignore the blood that is running down his lips, his face, and his hands. He kicks in an attempt to strike one of the boys and escape only to get slapped in the face again.

Craig looks up into the hate-filled eyes as the other laughs and spits the blood he has in his mouth on the aggressor's shirt. "Fuck you... fuckin' bastard," he says his voice reflecting the cold, deadpanned expression he wears. He can hear the irritated noise the boy makes. He can see the fist rise. He counts the seconds until first contact.

One... Two... Three...

When had he closed his eyes? Craig opens them when nothing happens. Then he feels himself falling to the ground and hears the sound of running footsteps. Kenny towers over the leader of the group that attacked Craig with a broken beer bottle in his hand. He looks over at Craig and grins. "You have the bastard part right. Bringing four upperclassmen to help him beat up some lowerclassman is just not fair," he states to explain his interference. If there is one thing Kenny McCormick cannot stand is injustice. He is still a vigilante in his heart. A superhero ready to save anyone who needs his help.

Craig looks up and wipes his mouth again. His eyes whispering a thank you his lips do not form. For the first time his eyes actually register the one in front of him as a friend. He takes the hand offered to him as he continues to absorb the fact. His thoughts are disjointed somehow, and he blames how his head had hit the concrete before. "I'm used to it," he finally says earning a frown he does not see.

The frown fades as he follows Craig off of the school grounds. Craig glances back, but he does not tell Kenny to leave. He just continues to walk until he reaches the place where Ruby is waiting for him. Her eyes rise to question the one behind him before turning back to her brother who merely gives her a small shrug in response. Kenny just stands off to the side kind of looking at the clouds overhead before following as they continue walking. He stops Craig before they can continue on with a small yell of his name. "Wanna do something later this week?" he asks once he has the noirette's attention.

Craig nods quickly on impulse, not really paying attention to the shouted question. His sister is staring at him as he agrees, her eyes dark as she seems to be questioning the situation. Kenny pays her no heed, Craig's response enough to leave him in a good mood as he turns to walk away. Ruby is still staring at him with those eyes as if she does not trust him until she faces the opposite direction continuing to walk with Craig. "You've made a friend," she says once they are half a mile from the school and walking toward home.

Craig says nothing, not really sure if that is exactly what Kenny is. He looked at the other as a friend when he helped him in the fight, but now his deep rooted trust issues resurface and bring with them the same doubt Ruby holds. Ruby tugs out a cigarette as he continues to say nothing. She wants her brother to have friends, but she wants him to be careful. Most of the other people he had chosen as friends betrayed him in the last few harrowing weeks. They betrayed him in the worst way possible: they abandoned him.

Ruby does not wish for that to happen to her brother again.

Craig eases her worry with his carefree zoning out. His eyes seem a bit lighter as he mentally argues with himself whether or not Kenny is a friend. Ruby's own eyes are stained a permanent black. The guilt of her crime is eating away her ability to smile or even snort at simple jokes. She can no longer bring light to them. It is as if the brother and sister have switched places. Now Craig is the happier seeming of the two while Ruby holds the pained apathy her brother used to carry every day since that first backhand into a white wall.


	5. Chapter 5

They arrive at their grandmother's house. Their new home that has become a haven from the taunts, their worries and constant unease. She always welcomes them with homey warmth. That night after hours of not thinking about it, Craig feels that familiar pain creep into him. He is able to force the thoughts away when he is moving and doing other things, but right now he finds himself unable to force them away any longer. He does not wish to, but he feels the tears before he can stop them. He struggles to push the pain down before they overflow and break the surface of his eyes. Only one tear manages to escape before he falls into a restless slumber. One added to the many where he would soon awake drenched in his own sweat, clutching tight to his sleeping sister beside him.

The nightmares always rouse Craig before anyone else. He wakes with the images of blood and screaming painting his mind. He knows deep down that in that the death was inevitable. One of them was going to die in that house. He is just not sure if Ruby made the right decision in playing God. He nibbles his lip absentmindedly as he wanders around the empty house. He arrives to the kitchen and fixes himself a cup of hot chocolate. He secretly drinks a cup every morning, not wanting to admit just how much he enjoys the sugary indulgence.

Craig munches on the peppermint stick while he cleans up any evidence he had been there. He walks to the bathroom, exiting just when Ruby is waking up. She passes him in the hallway as if not even noticing him. Her eyes are empty as she brushes past. Craig's eyes glance at her, but instead of focusing on surfacing worry he walks to the living room and picks up a novel resting on the coffee table. He loses himself in the book for the next hour. The world of words is so much more pleasurable to the world of his own.

A tap on the shoulder makes Craig slip out of his reading. He looks up and meets eyes like his own and red hair. Lips form a sentence to tell him it is time to go. Craig nods and places the book back in its place. He remembers the page number in case he comes back to it before following Ruby out the front door. Cold air and frost suit their moods when they leave their secret paradise. His feet shuffle on the sidewalk for a bit, but he picks up pace when he pulls out a cigarette. Only one because he and his sister agree that it is cheaper to share a fag between them rather than smoke one a piece. Besides, they both enjoy the closeness of sharing despite neither of them admitting it.

They arrive at the school and part with their usual hesitation. Craig watches her until she is in the building. The cigarette is still between his lips as he watches silently. He does not burn it out until he reaches his own school. He watches the red embers go grey in the wastebin before pushing open the large double doors of South Park High. He stops at his locker which is "fortunately" located near the guidance counsellor.

Craig turns the combination with ease, his locker never changing in the past three years. He had wished to be closer to his friends, but it seems as if that even that does not matter any longer. His friends are gone, but the emotion is drowned out with a tardy bell. It is gone just as fast as it came. The leftover tendrils of the feeling are pushed away before they can form full thoughts of dreams. His dreams never come true in the way he hopes. Dreaming and wishing is a risky business.

Craig walks down the hall with an uncaring air. Mind forced blank as he passes the other lollygaggers in the hallways. He finds his way but is late again. He sits through his class boredly, eyes staring ahead but not really looking. He has perfected the talent of not caring to the very detail. Fifteen minutes into the class his eyes shift to the window. He stares at the falling snow. Snow in November is not an odd thing in for South Park. He watches the flakes fall until he suddenly sees a flash of orange fly past the window. Then there is a face with the colour, one he recognizes from yesterday. A hand is beckoning him over clad in light brown gloves. He shakes his head, noticing that a few students are turning around to stare. It will not be long before the teacher catches them. Craig shakes head even firmer, his face not changing as he tries to get Kenny away before they are sent to the principal. Fortunately, Kenny ducks out of sight by the time the teacher does turn around.

Ten minutes pass before there is a light knock on the door. The teacher sighs wondering who is interrupting her lesson. Despite her slight irritation, she tells the student behind the door that it is unlocked. Craig sees Kenny come in, and those cyan eyes glance at him ever so subtly. None of the other students even notice. They do notice what he says however. "Craig Tucker needs to report to the office immediately," he says appearing serious in a calm, carefree manner. Craig is staring in disbelief wondering what Kenny is up to despite the impassiveness air he is still giving off.

The teacher nods. She is far too used to Craig being sent to the office that she does not even bother to ask for evidence of Kenny's claim. "Mr. Tucker, please leave," she says motioning for Craig to stand. Her eyes shift back to Kenny, who is holding back the urge to grin widely. "As for you Mr. McCormick, can you please tell the central office to wait before or after my class hours to interrupt me? I would appreciate it," she says as she turns back to the board to continue rambling on about whatever she is talking about.

Kenny nods only paying a bit of attention to her. He is actually looking through his peripherals as Craig gathers his stuff. Craig is soon walking out of the door in front of him, and Kenny gives a quick wave to the teacher before he shuts the door behind them. Craig wants to question the situation, but Kenny offers an explanation before he can get the sentence free from his lips. "I was bored, and I thought today was enough to be 'later this week'," he says leading Craig to the nurse's office.

Craig snorts, a look of surprise flitting over his features. His display of surprise is slightly arched eyebrows and maybe widened eyes. Other than that, his face remains impassive. That snort had been the closest thing he had came to a laugh in the weeks since his mother's imprisonment and his father's death. He covers it up just as quickly as it came and looks around the spotless nurse office. He sees why Kenny has brought him here; the poor boy's things are tossed in a corner.

Craig waits as Kenny puts his book and things in his bag, his own hands getting antsy in their waiting. He picks up a tongue depressor to put in his mouth to have something to do. He does not see Kenny's eyes watching his movements, but he does notice when the other is finally done. He adjusts his bag again and walks alongside Kenny out the door. From there he is led to a familiar side door that the school pretends not to know about. He knows because he has sneaked out of this very door several times to escape the prison of a school.

Craig's eyes squint as they adjust to the warm sunshine. He does not question where they are going. His curiosity for things never has been the best. When his mind did begin to wander, it focuses on how the hell had he gotten himself tangled with the person beside him. He decides to take a quick glance to see what expression Kenny is wearing. He is sure that Kenny is someone he can read well. Kenny seems like he is too honest.

Kenny is humming softly with a soft smile on his face. His eyes look straight ahead, and his expression is calm, carefree. Craig stares a bit, his mind blanking as it usually does yet not the same at the exact same time. His eyes fixture on how Kenny's hair is only slightly showing due to the other pulling his hood to cover his head. He did not fasten the mouthpiece, so his face is open to the wind. This also made his face open to Craig's vision. Suddenly the blank thoughts pick up the tendrils of something growing, not from his mind but his heart. Craig stares before suddenly finding it so very hard to breathe. He cannot have a panic attack here, not now. He whispers this to his mind, but then he takes off in a sprint.

The movement is sudden. One moment Kenny is happily humming alongside Craig, and the next moment Craig is running across a snow covered hill. Kenny's eyes open in surprise as he watches for only a few seconds before taking off after Craig wanting to know what is wrong. He saw Craig disappear into the forest camouflage, a blue hat his only guidance as he pushes onto the trail.


	6. Chapter 6

Craig is running. He runs off the path and finds a place to hide within a small cave. The feelings are pressing in with memories that do not ever quite ever go away. They are the same memories that eat away his indifference at night; the same memories that are causing him to feel like this. They're memories of hands around his throat, in his face, everywhere. The memories that remind him that it (he) will be punished if he feels something like this. He registers vaguely the fast pacing of his heart as he clasps his hands over his ears to deafen the sudden voice that just won't shut up in his head. A gruff voice whispering vulgarities and curses. He can remember the stench of liquor as it soaks his clothes and is dumped over his head. Cigarettes, fists, and hard eyes assaulted him not only physically but mentally. His breathing is laboured as he tries to push away the memories in vain.

Craig's mind fogs the more he tries to control the attack. Then there are the memories he tried to push back the furthest. The last memory he had of his old broken home. He remembers coming home to find his father drunk and with a bottle still in his hand. He remembers the father asking for an explanation why a boy had called and asked for him. Before Craig could have possibly explained, there had been hands forcing him onto the couch. The voice lost its meaning and became only hating shouts as he remembers being asked over and over again why he could not be a man, be someone who was not useless. He had wanted so long ago to make the other proud, but it had dwindled to nothing over the years. This is what Craig remembers not being able to say.

Then suddenly there had been such a change in his father's eyes. The hatred had reached its peak as he drunk the last of his whiskey. "So you like to take it up your sorry, good-for-nothing ass?" Craig remembers suddenly caring, the caring resurfacing as his hands reached up to push the man off of him as the end of the then empty whiskey bottle lowered down to where he could not see it. Then he remembers pain; but it was erased by his own scream as his ability to remain a voiceless nothing was broken, along with something else.

Then he remembers someone screaming his name, and suddenly there was red. There was red everywhere as he rolled off the couch trying to ignore the pain and trying even harder not to cry. He stumbled to the phone and dialed blindly three little numbers. He remembers Ruby still screaming and slicing blindly after her first stab had not killed him. He remembers his father stumbling and looking at Ruby with such a look of fear in his eyes. Then he remembers Ruby chasing after. She is cutting, slicing, killing off who had killed her childhood before it had even began.

Craig is brought from the memory with a hand on his shoulder shaking him. He looks up, and he realises that his mask is not on. He puts it on quickly, apathy washing over his features, but not before Ruby had seen that flitting moment of pain, desperation, and so much fear on his face. All the things he felt then and feels now. The fear never leaves him.

Kenny is standing not too far away from Ruby, but she made it there first. It was as if she already had known where her brother had been heading. Kenny suspects that Ruby might have seen them from the classroom window and watched them. They were not too far away from the middle school when Craig began to run. The questions about the situation that rapidly turn through his mind are put on pause as he watches Ruby help Craig up. Neither of them sees him because he is still hidden by a thick camouflage of forest trees and shrubbery.

Ruby is talking to him steadily in a calm voice to ease the nerves she is sure are severed. She never puts her arm around him nor offers him a shoulder to lean on. Still, Kenny can see that her words calm him even if he cannot pick out what they are. Craig is reacting in the same stoicism, but there is a slight tremble of his hands that he stuffs into his jacket pockets. In minutes they are walking off, Kenny in the opposite direction of the siblings in order to think over what had just happened.


	7. Chapter 7

Kenny thought about it all week, coming to a conclusion similar to his first, but now he had built details on it. The only problem is that each new discovery led to a new question. He drums his fingers on the desk in front of him causing Kyle, his old friend and tutor, to look up. "Kenny...," Kyle says rubbing reddish orange curls from his eyes. He gathers the other's attention and slides a book in front of him. "You have to pass with at least a seventy in all your classes, dude. This is no time to be zoning out." He does not say the words unkindly, but in a voice that resembles more of a firm parent wanting him to succeed. "Didn't you say something about an art show or something?"

Kenny nods to the question, but his eyes do not look down at the textbook. Instead, they wander to where he sees a blue chullo peeking from beyond a row of books. "I'll definitely study more later..." he promises in an offhand manner as he stands and walks away from the table. Kyle hisses a whisper to stop him, but Kenny has a pretty long stride and is already out of earshot. It was either this, or he was simply ignoring Kyle.

Craig is reading a book. He picked it up at random, but now he is completely captivated. It looks a bit under-advanced for his age, but the story seems to relate to his own life. The boy in the story kidnapped and abused only to come home and find nothing is the same. His friends abandon him, and he is picked on day after day. He is so entranced that he does not notice Kenny stepping behind him and poking his shoulder. He mutters a "fuck off", not bothering to look up and see who is disturbing him.

"Is that any way to talk to the guy who is willing to buy you something at Harbucks?" Craig looks up at the words and the voice. He tilts his head ever so slightly wondering why Kenny is there. They had not spoken in nearly a week, and he thought that perhaps he had lost his newly acquainted friend. He arches a brow in questioning and shuts the book. "Seriously," Kenny says, "I just got paid, and all my other friends are too busy to hang out with me at the moment," The tiny white lie slips out easily. He knows very well all of his friends will be willing to accept the invitation if asked.

Craig stares a bit more before agreeing. The lie stops him from wondering why exactly Kenny came to him. He follows Kenny to the cafe, Kenny happily ordering a Mocha Valencia and a cinnamon muffin. Craig listens to the order and scans the place with a quick gaze. He had been searching for blond hair and twitching fingers when the waitress finished writing down Kenny's order and turned to him. "Peppermint cocoa," he says to the waitress. He turns back to looking at Kenny across the table, fingers absentmindedly thumbing the sleeves of his hoodie.

Kenny manages to drag Craig into a conversation. Craig's eyes look more their violet hue by the time the waitress hands them their orders. They both stop talking to enjoy their beverages. Although, unlike most silences he has with other people, Craig feels at ease. It is the first time in a while that Craig has felt this comfortable outside his Nana's house.

It is the first time he feels a lot of things.

The feelings are ignored, blindsided by indulging in his cocoa. They also go unnoticed because he just doesn't want to notice them. He simply takes a long sip of the cocoa, eyes closing as he drinks it. He licks away any whip cream that is on his face. It feels good not to worry, not to think about unpleasant things. He stares out the window to watch the passersby.

The slightest touch can startle anybody under the right circumstances. This even goes for stoic boys who appear to never be fazed. Kenny's ungloved fingers reach and wipe the corners of Craig's mouth to his cheek. "Sprinkle," he explains to deaf ears. Craig's hearing dies for a split second as he stares. The thoughts are coming back to him, but the memories are drowning in blue eyes. An unwanted flush covers his deadpanned face. The hand that reaches up and touches his cheek feels the heat, and his eyes widen slightly.

Honey blond hair and a cheesy grin is his undoing.

Craig's jumbled mind seems to catch up with the situation and understand what Kenny had said. "... Sprinkle...," he says slowly his voice still steady despite everything. His eyes are a swirling indigo, bright violet tinged over the blue to create the colour. His hand never leaves his cheek, apathy covering his features yet a contradicting light flush is giving him away. It does not help that Craig is outrageously pale skinned.

"Craig Tucker, I believe you are blushing," Kenny states without thinking. He is just as surprised as Craig is. The movements were an act of unconscious thinking. He had not thought Craig would react in this way. He had not thought at all. His words do not help the situation. They only make Craig's flush grow darker. It is a bit comical, an impassive face wearing a blush. In fact, Kenny thinks it is a rather flattering on Craig.

"I am," Craig says in disbelief. His eyes widen as his mind clears completely, and he realizes how his body betrayed him and his pact to apathy. "Fucking," he curses as he looks down at his cocoa, blaming the heat on his face on the steam coming from his dark mug. "I mean, I'm not... Shit," he says keeping his voice in monotone.

Kenny tilts his head. "I think it suits you," he says with a grin. He has no idea why, but he wants to fluster Craig just a bit more. He wants to see just how far he can go before Craig gets up and leaves. A tiny bit of Kenny is hoping Craig will do something "unexpected." He has not hung around the other long enough to be sure of what to expect.

Craig curses again, not looking up so he could will the blush back down. "Fuck you, McCormick," Craig finally says standing up from the table. His legs are preparing to walk right out of Harbucks and back home, but then Kenny stops him with a restraining hand around his wrist and a good-natured laugh. Both stop Craig in his attempt to escape, his curses dying in his throat momentarily as he stares at the one across the table once more.

Blue eyes are sparkling as they realize they have accomplished their mission. "Shit Tucker," Kenny says, using Craig's last name just to be coy, "You sure can't take a compliment very well can you?" There is a smirk on his lips. His comments are uncontrollable, the words coming out on their own.

Kenny's uncontrollable comments match Craig's uncontrollable thought process. As quickly as it halted, it came stuttering and bumbling back. The things his mind saying running together and not making any sense at all. Craig frowns slightly again at this, not liking the foreign feelings. "Fuck you. You just like making people uncomfortable," he says finding that the flush across his cheeks does not die down at all. In actuality it is still there faintly, Craig feels it the heat warming his cheeks and threatening to colour his ears as well. He is trying his best to muster the will power to push it back down, but Kenny is just saying some other thing to make him become flustered again. He feels like Tweek. Not in the way of twitches and sudden shouts, but in the way he suddenly has a quickening heart and his thoughts are not in order at all.

Kenny finds his smirk growing into a smile. "Correction, I just like making you uncomfortable Tucker," he says reducing Craig to another silence. Craig somehow finds himself sitting down again in this peculiar situation with no idea what he is doing. He stares at his mug once again as if it holds some sort of answer. There is an odd nagging at the back of Craig's mind that this is so very wrong, but he pushes it back and focuses on the whipped cream swirling in his half-drunken cocoa.

Words finally find the way to his lips as the feeling is pushed back completely, a hand reaching down to pick at his sleeve beneath the table. "... Consider yourself successful," Craig mutters looking up from his mug to the male across to him. Those baby blues are staring at him too hard to the extent that they are boring holes into his head. He nearly regrets lifting his gaze from the cocoa to those eyes because now he cannot look away. He does not realise there is a hand caressing his cheek or another on his shoulder to tug him closer.

Two meets one across the table although neither really expected the turn of events. A simple brush of the lips that taste of peppermint cocoa mixed with orange espresso tinged with the everlasting flavour of nicotine. It is a sweet kiss that lacks the usual eagerness expected of Kenny McCormick, long-lasting, but nothing more than that simple pressing of their lips across the table. Then Craig's arms begin to shake. His breath catches in his throat the longer they continue as one minute became five. It is his mind tangling with his heart and the thoughts in between.

Craig cannot part himself until his shaky hands knocks over the mug next to his fingers. The heat of the drink brings him back in control of his body, and he stumbles back not caring when he knocks over his chair. He is staring at Kenny with a blank expression but his face has glazed over with horror. Then Craig is out the door, a frenzy of blues pushing his way out into frigid winter air.


	8. Chapter 8

The price for Craig to think at that moment is too high. His mind is mush as he runs. He has done something so wrong he cannot stop running. He thinks if he runs fast enough he can out run the thoughts. His blue canvas shoes slap the frozen sidewalk at a rate so dangerous he just might fall. He cannot hear anything over his fierce concentration to not think, not even the sound of the footsteps that have followed him from the diner to here and to the sidewalk.

A hand on Craig's wrist pulls him to a halt and whirls him around as startling light blue eyes meet his. Craig vainly attempts to pull away, only to hear words that stop his movements, words that are just as stilling as a kiss. "Don't run away this time. Please," Kenny begs as he stares at Craig intently. His eyes match the worry in his voice that Craig can somehow catch. It is the worry that freezes Craig's bones. He stops struggling to run away. His body slumps and Kenny drags his dead weight from the sidewalk and to the privacy of trees.

Craig leans against a tree to hide the fact he might just fall apart from the memories that are now digging inside of his mind. He averts his gaze from Kenny's eyes to the dirty snow that covers both of their feet. Kenny is too close, and he is all too aware of it. The thoughts that are rubbing uncomfortably against his memories in his jumbled mind to create something else as that familiar unsettling feeling sets in the pit of his stomach and throughout his entire being. He cannot place it as his hands begin to shake. No. He was not allowed have a panic attack right now. The tendrils of one are not creeping in and choking his throat, causing him to breathe deeply. He is not lifting his hands to block out the thoughts, and he is definitely not going to cry. This is not a panic attack. Not now, any time but now.

Reality trumps fantasy as Craig begins to fall to the snow trembling slightly. Kenny instantly recognises it from the previous incident in the woods. It is the exact same protective position as before. Craig's breath comes out laboured as he tries desperately to calm down. There is no Ruby here to help him this time. Kenny wants to help, but he is hesitant to how. His childhood vigilante skills never taught him how to deal with things like this. He wants to know what Ruby said, but he is sure she has a certain _something_ he does not. He sighs deciding anything he tries might be better than nothing at all.

That is why there are suddenly two orange clad arms wrapped around Craig to still the shaking and placate the thoughts. That is why Craig is so suddenly shocked out of his panic attack at a sudden, affectionate embrace as his indigo eyes open wide having not really expecting anything but definitely not expecting this. He is wide-eyed and surprised, gloved blue fingers somehow finding their ways to the arms to check if they are really there. Fingers that end up gripping the parka that they come into contact with, the body.

"Stop running away. I'll only catch you," Kenny whispers. His blond hair tickles Craig's cheek as he says the words. The words that cause Craig to finally find the him he hid behind. Still, somehow he does not want to move from the snow he sits in. He only wants to stay here in that peaceful moment. This moment in which he feels a spreading calmness in his fingers and toes.

"That's so fucking cheesy McCormick," Craig finally says to shatter the silence growing between them. The words are said in their usual sarcasm, but you can hear the slight crack in Craig's voice when he makes the comment. He is still shaking ever so slightly, but now his mind blames the cold, blames the wind, anything but himself. He is holding the other with no sign of letting go despite his obvious lack of trust in these types of things (too close, too close). He pushes away his nerves and panicking thoughts as he focuses on the small warmth from the body pressing against his. He has no idea how long they stay like that, him leaning in and buried in the fabric of Kenny's parka and Kenny all too wrapped around. All he knows is that when they do break apart, a part of him longs to be wrapped in the arms again (that part of him that does not win although).

Craig stares at his feet as he keeps his knees pressed to his chest. He is now trying to ignore the boy in front of him, He tries to pretend he is not there and this did not happen. He allows the silence to return and envelop them. His apathy and indifference wash over him like a blanket (an invisible cloak). Craig wants to be invisible, to hide and fade away, but he is trapped here in good ol' South Park with the memories that stab at him every day, every night, and in every fucking nightmare he cannot seem to ever wake up from until he is biting back the urge to scream. He is trapped in red and violet and blue (blood and bruises and scars). He cannot fathom any of it, his existence and what he ever did so wrong to deserve it all.

"I was born."

The declaration is a quiet whisper carried on the wind right to Kenny's ears. He does not see the confused expression, only continues in a mechanical monotone. "I was born, and I was hated for being born." That is the answer to all his problems as far as he can tell. Everything is caused by contempt everyone (anyone) has for him. He is despised for being who he was, who he is not, his simple existence. The thoughts are pushing through his mind and eats away reason like a parasite. He very well knows that he is loved. He is cared about. Still, those thoughts seem ridiculous in that moment. Memories paint everything sombre black, sombre blue.

Then it is gone as fast as it came. The words are whispers in the wind, and Craig is standing up as if the words had not been said, as if nothing really did happen. His legs are walking off before Kenny could even stumble after him. He pulls at his hat to make it cover his eyes more only to find it cannot envelop him like the security blanket it used to be, but the simple feel of the knit beneath his fingers reminds him of hot cocoa, laughing, cosy couches and books on coffee tables. He wants to go home (not home, but _home_). He wants to go where his heart is, and where he can be himself without the façade of being okay. He walks faster at the thought.

He has to get home.


	9. Chapter 9

Craig nearly slips on the snow in his rush. He began running at some point, but he has no idea when. He is not even sure what he is running from anymore. He just knows he cannot dare to look behind him; to face anything but what is ahead. He finally sees his grandmother's house near him, hardly thinking about the fact he has ran nearly ten miles to find himself there. He keeps running, only pausing when he fumbles with the door and then stumbles inside. He manages to make his way to the living room, but he falls over the coffee table and does not bother to get up.

When the tears sting his eyes this time he finds himself sobbing on the carpet. He is hardly aware of anything but the unexplainable fear of having done something wrong. He is not sure why he is so afraid when the thing of his nightmares is supposed to be gone. He wants someone to tell him everything will be okay, but he knows that is impossible. He is crying, sobbing, screaming into his arms not even aware of the worried indigo eyes on him.

"Craig...?" The worry in his grandmother's voice goes unheard when she outstretches her hand. The minute her fingers brush Craig's arm, the noirette tugs his arm back viciously and stops crying altogether. His eyes go from wild-eyed to blank black as he stares at her emptily. He cannot see her. He sees monsters, barbaric men and whiskey bottles. He feels terrified yet empty - so empty he can hear the slowing of his heart.

"Don't touch me. Please." The last part of Craig's sentence is a monotonic whisper. He can see the hurt in his grandmother's eyes now, but he cannot sympathise. He can only feel the guilt faintly, in the back of his mind, but the terror drowns out everything. He wants the thoughts to go away, but they spread through his veins to numb him. He loses himself in the nothing as he presses his knees into his chest again and falls to his side on the floor.

Craig's arms reach around, and he hugs himself tightly. He can faintly feel the pain in his arms from his nails digging into the skin of his arms, but he rather than move them, he digs deeper._ Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me._ His thoughts continuously keep whispering the words as he keeps his foetal position. Maybe if he says it out loud, the fear will subside.

Arms fall down and legs stretch out ever so slightly as Craig's eyes closed. He loses himself to restless sleep and restless thoughts. He wants to lose himself to nothing. No dreams. No nightmares. He just wants to get lost in the blackness of an empty conscience.

He wishes it could be true.


	10. Chapter 10

Craig was in his bedroom. He had climbed into bed with a small composition book, writing little bits of poetry and sentence fragments that crossed his dulled mind. There was just the sound of his pen on the paper and the hum of his laptop still open on his desk. The room was quiet, comfortably so. The calm only disrupted by the creaking up the stairs.

Creaking?

Craig looked up and suddenly wondered why his heart was racing. His notebook fell carelessly, forgotten to his side as he scrambled beneath his blankets. He was nearly completely covered when a slit of light came from the bedroom door opening slowly, slowly, all the way. He felt panic catch in his throat and wanted to scream, but he knew he had to be quiet otherwise he (it) would hear.

There was a monster next to his bed. It smelt like alcohol and curses. He could hear every slurred vulgarity in his ear and feel the not-so-slight pressure of its weight on his now dipped mattress. There were hands on him, on the blankets, pulling them down, and there was the mumbling of the words in a voice so close he could understand them. They told him how disgusting he was, how miserable he made others. They told him why he hardly had any friends or anyone to care about him.

Craig wanted to cry.

Craig wanted to cry so very much it hurt and made his chest constrict, but he could not, would not. He could feel the sting behind his eyelids, but he only closed them tighter to stop the feeling. He did not want to feel any more. It would only make him look weak(er), small(er). There were hands lowering beneath the sheets and it (oh God _it_) was touching him there and there and everywhere. He wanted to scream, wanted someone to help him, but he knew no one would. No one could. No one wanted to.

Then there was the horrible sound of pants unzipping and grunts before pain. Horrible, terrible, splitting pain. Craig tried not to cry. He _tried_. He was losing against himself to appear stronger, to be what he was supposed to be, what it wanted him to be. Stronger. It was to make him stronger. Craig did not fight. He did not scream. He just let it happen.

Then there was the ending of everything as he found himself unable to hold everything back any more, and he cried. He began to cry only to have his mouth covered and the voice to tell him how "a pathetic little faggot" he was for him to weep like "a little bitch." Craig should have punched. He should have kicked. His mind bit at him to. But he was losing.

He was lost.

Craig wakes up to find himself covered with a quilt and resting on wet carpet. It takes him a while to realise that the water in the carpet is saltwater tears. He tells himself it is sweat. He rubs at his eyes; his lashes are sticking together. The light that had before trickled through the window is now gone. There is only the moon visible through the partway open curtains. He crawls from the floor and to the couch only to discover his sister there.

Craig moves back, not wanting to disturb her. Her face is serious even in her sleep. He can see a frown on her once nonchalant features as she bites her lip unconsciously. Craig moves closer and strokes her hair, hoping he can comfort her some with the simple gesture. Her features only ease in the smallest way possible, the lip biting stopping but her frown still very much there. He sighs and gives up, standing up quietly to walk into the kitchen. He goes and begins fixing himself a cup of peppermint cocoa. The water boils as he adds sugar, cocoa, cinnamon, and peppermints to the mug he places on the table. He has an exact measurement of each ingredient. He is tedious and meticulous, making sure everything is just right.

When the drink is finally finished, Craig refuses to sit down in a chair. His feet need to walk. He needs something to do. He ends up pacing around the room, around the house, and finally finds himself walking outside. Ruby must have taken off his shoes because the cold snow is freezing on his socks. He ignores it and just keeps walking until he is standing on the sidewalk with the mug the only thing warming his hands.

Ruby must have taken his gloves too.

He stands there and sips his mug under the moonlight. He hardly notices the snow that begins to fall and dust him in white. He does not notice that he is slightly shivering from the cold. He finishes the mug as he is covered in the tiny bits of ice. His toes are stiffening in his socks, and his hands are shaking as he puts down his mug. Then he is twirling, catching the snowflakes on his stretched out tongue. It is childish and impulsive, but he does not care because he is happy. He is dancing in the snow with his eyes closed, and he just wants to pretend for a while. He wants to pretend he is normal, and that he is not the teenager with the nightmares and the physically dead father and emotionally dead sister.

Snow is beautiful and can fill in the cracks where he is not so. He only stops twirling when he finds himself getting dizzy from the spinning. Then he merely stands with his arms outstretched and catches the crystals on his arms, on his hand, on his hat. He moves to go back inside, but his body is too stiff from the cold to make it without stumbling. He falls, letting out a small gasp as he hits the ground.

He is half-buried in the snow, but Craig does not dare to stand up. The position is surprisingly cosy despite being freezing. He stays there for a few seconds that turn to minutes that turn to hours. He is still there when the sun begins to come up and he can hear the sounds of cars. The snow has long ago stopped falling. He knows it stopped around the time of the sunrise, but he does not know exact time. The snow had not stopped before covering his chest and legs. The chilling blanket seemed to lull him to asleep, the snow numbing his mind, not only his body. His eyes slide open only when he hears the sound of crunching snow beside him. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing?"


	11. Chapter 11

There is orange and blue and yellow and more orange above him. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing at my house," Craig retorts in a deadpanned mimic to the blond now crouching beside him. Kenny is staring at him with a sort of bemused expression now. His eyes are more of a key to what he is feeling than the rest of his face hidden behind the fur of his hood and a fluffy striped scarf. Kenny's eyes have the amazing ability to laugh with not only his mouth but with his eyes.

"I _was_ here to walk with you to school," Kenny says adjusting his tattered old messenger bag to prove his point. "My house is not too far from here." He points to the tracks in seeing distance from the front yard. "You're going to be late although. Or sick." He says everything calmly and muffled through fur and knit. The calm in his voice seems to persuade Craig to sit up.

"I'm fine. It's not that cold." His words do not seem to agree with how his body is reacting with the chill passing through his body. He is visibly shaking, and his fingers have turned a light blue. It turns out a dark hoodie, jeans, and socks are not the best things to shield someone from the cold.

Kenny's eyes are still laughing at the retort. "I believe you Tucker," he says with that same muffled amusement. "Now c'mon. I'm gonna take your 'not cold' ass inside," he says putting an arm around his waist to help him up. "Upsy daisy," he says, this time laughing much to Craig's irritation.

Craig displays his resentment for it with a noise from the back of his throat Kenny manages to translate as scorn. It only makes Kenny want to smile. It is odd, but Kenny has found himself drawn to the expressionless teenager who is always running from something that he cannot see. He also likes the way how even when Craig protests, he has put an arm around Kenny's shoulders to allow him to assist his numb body inside. He is not sure if the resistance was conscious or not, but he does know the compliance must mean something, right?

At least that is what he has come to believe.


	12. Chapter 12

Craig collapses on his bed the minute he is makes his way to the room he and Ruby share. Ruby is still asleep on the couch leaving the two of them alone. Kenny sits in a rocking chair near the bed, watching as Craig closes his eyes and sighs. He tugs off his orange hood and exhales in relief as the heat of inside reaches him. Kenny really does not understand how Craig could stay out until he was practically blue.

Kenny's baby blues graze over craig. He has a feeling that Craig's sigh signified the noirette does not plan on leaving any time soon. It is as if Kenny is not even there now. Craig seems unaware of him, perhaps under the thought of that Kenny left as soon as he had dropped Craig off.

Craig is really too used to people leaving.

Craig draws his knees to his chest and curls into a ball as he lets himself drift to sleep once more. He hopes it will be as peaceful as the one he had in the snow. He coughs somewhat viciously proving Kenny's prior assumption to be true. He probably caught a cold when he was out in the snow. Now he has to suffer the consequences through coughing fits and suddenly feeling hot and cold at the same time.

It only grows worse as the day progresses, Ruby discovering them at some point but not commenting on why Kenny is there in their home. She only places her forehead against her brother's to check his temperature, murmuring when she realises that Craig is sick. Ruby continues to murmur even as she helps Craig out of the bed and to the bathroom, telling him how he has to change clothes. His are still damp slightly damp from his "fun" in the snow, but Kenny did not bother to change them thinking that just might be another one of 'those' things that would upset Craig. Kenny really does not want to see Craig break down again if he can prevent it.

It is Kenny's turn to sigh as he watches the duo disappear behind the bathroom door. Kenny can tell by the stare he received from Ruby she does not want him to still be there. That stare did not last too long, but her meaning had been clear.

They emerge from the bathroom, Craig now in chequered pants and a time-worn Red Racer shirt that is a few sizes too big and a bit too thin from age. He says goodbye to Ruby in a silent exchange of a cough and lighting her cigarette. Fourth period is about to start, and one of the guidance counsellors will surely be "visiting" if both of them skip the school day completely.

Ruby sucks on the cigarette as Craig disappears under the various quilts on the bed. (But no matter how deep he burrows he feels too cold despite sweating from fever.) Ruby watches him before turning to Kenny.

The trust Ruby has in Kenny is still not very strong, but her grandmother is there. She supposes she can leave them alone for a while. She eyes Kenny with another dark-eyed glare before swinging on her backpack. She says nothing, only glares. Her expression is a bit frightening to say the least. She even less emotion than Craig. It is as if she simply does not register feelings at all. Craig typically bares an expression of a bored nonchalance, whilst Ruby wears one of cold indifference. The indifference is chilling, forcing Kenny to bring his focus to Craig rather than Ruby. He feels sad for some reason when he looks into her frigid eyes. He listens to her leave, her footsteps in the hall, and the slam of the door as she disappears to the fristy Colorado air.

The noise barely wakes Craig up. The still shivering teenager only snuggles deeper into his coverlets unaware of anything in his surroundings. He mumbles in his sleep due to either fever or some kind of odd quirk. Kenny is not too sure of which, since he has not really hung out with Craig before that shared science class. He can admit to having watched Craig (boy had legs that can go for miles), but he never picked up a longer conversation than to borrow a stick of rolled robacco (or whatever Craig was carrying) and a light.

Craig hides himself. Perhaps that is the reason why Kenny suddenly became so interested. He is sure Craig can easily be one of the most popular people in their small school, but he chooses not too. Craig chooses to keep to himself and run laps in the afternoon when he thinks no one can see him. He is a fantastic runner, but he wants no glory for it. Just another little facet of Craig adding to the mysteriousness of him. That mystery drawing Kenny in and making the poor boy wish to be in Craig's little world.

Kenny rests his chin on his hands as he watches the other sleep. Creepy maybe, but he cannot help but stare. It is not like he had anything better to do right then. Plus, he wants to make sure the noirette does not cough to death in his sleep or something. (That is how he justifies it in his mind at least.)


	13. Chapter 13

Kenny reaches for his messenger bag when he grows bored of staring. He rifles through it until he finds a spiral notebook that is carefully protected with some scrap fabric.

Kenny unwraps it carefully, as if it is a treasure to him. It practically is. A pencil is stuck in his hair for easy access. He quickly removes it and brings it to the paper, sketching away as Craig continues to sleep.

Kenny is still sketching when Craig wakes up with a start. Craig nearly jumps from the bed, and in that moment Kenny can see the panic in his eyes as Craig hugs himself and curls. He can see pain, and pain is something he knows too well. He wants to say something, but something, call it intuition, tells him whatever he has to say will sound bad. He waits for Craig to realise he is there on his own, bringing his mind back to his sketch.

The scritches on paper do not go unnoticed. Craig finally realises he is there when he turns his attention to the noise. Craig assures himself he had not been seen before opening his mouth to say something, and interrupt Kenny's apparent enrapture with whatever he is drawing. "You're still here McCormick?" he asks and seems to succeed in stealing Kenny's attention. Kenny is now looking up at him, those pale blue eyes boring into his. It is as if Kenny does not know how to _not_ stare.

Kenny's smile is more intense than his stare. His smile is ridiculous (_ridiculously attractive_ - the thought flits through Craig's mind dangerously). Somehow despite his apprehension, when he looks at the smile he does not feel the thoughts are all that terrible. His subconscious guilt seems to just melt away under the warmth of Kenny's sunshine grin. "Of course," Kenny answers happily as if it is obvious he would still be in the room. "I can't just leave a sick person to rot. It'd weigh on my conscious."

Craig rolls his eyes at the overdramatic explanation. He crawls from the bed, one of his blankets wrapped around his shoulders. "Well, if you're going to stay... it will be boring to stay in here." The words come out hesitantly as he begins walking toward the door. He dares one glance at Kenny to check if Kenny is behind him (he is) before heading to the kitchen. He does his best to pretend Kenny is not there as he makes himself a mug of cocoa. It is a little difficult because no matter how quiet Kenny manages to be, Craig is so very aware of his presence.

The mug is done when he turns around, and Kenny is leaning on the doorway ever so patiently, nibbling on a honey blond strand. Craig tilts his head slightly, very subtly, to stare at the other. Kenny seems to notice him staring, blue meeting violet in a single moment. Craig averts his eyes quickly down to his mug (because bits of swirling brown and a peppermint stick are oh so very interesting). He does not say a word, never being one for talking, as he passes to go to the living room. Kenny follows with that smile back in place, but he speeds ahead to flop onto the couch and steal most of it.

This results in Craig bitching about how he cannot sit on the bit of cushion Kenny had left him and how he should get his "big ass fucking feet" off, so he can sit down. Kenny refuses to move only to have his legs pushed until Craig and squeeze himself next to him. The whole time Craig is still cursing and tells Kenny to be quiet when he turns on whatever DVD that is inside the player. Kenny only laughs until he is literally shushed with a pillow Craig throws into his face.


	14. Chapter 14

Kenny should have known it would be Red Racer. He remembers the noirette had an odd fascination with the show when he was younger. It seems that he never grew out of it. Kenny almost laughs at how Craig lip-syncs with the words in the theme song, but he does not dare to, knowing Craig will kick him out if he does. Craig even knows some of the lines. ... Or all of them. Kenny does not put it above the Red Racer fanatic staring focused at the screen.

Kenny pays half-hearted interest in the episode and the one after that and the next after that... By the seventh episode Kenny wonders if he has incidentally elicited himself into a Red Racer marathon. He thinks the show is okay, but he would rather watch something else.

"Craigy," Kenny says in a somewhat singsong whine, but he does not seem to catch the other's attention at all. He repeats it again and again, until he sees Craig's hand twitch to show he heard him. Then he is being viciously attacked by the other jumping on top of him with a couch pillow.

"Ugh, I'm busy!" Craig says in an irritated deadpan. "You are fucking annoying." The words do not seem to get to Kenny, who succumbs to laughter. Craig almost seems _okay_ right then. He is wrestling with Kenny, not really hurting him, as he grows more and more frustrated that the blond is laughing rather than being quiet. They end up somehow falling off the couch, the two landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. Craig shouts when he falls, and Kenny's laughter is interrupted by a startled yelp.

Complaints pour from Craig's mouth as he struggles to untangle himself from Kenny with a little difficulty. Kenny is trying to help (but maybe not as hard). They somehow manage to separate, and Craig moves to sit next to Kenny instead, murmuring how much of an idiot someone was. (Kenny suspects it to be him.) Kenny rolls over to face him on his own side a wide smile on his face.

"You only pretend to not care."

The statement takes Craig by surprise making his murmurs dwindle to nothing as he tries to find a retort to the statement. Then he decides it is not worth it, closing his mouth tightly and making a small face. Kenny wishes he could smile wider just because of the fact he seems to have succeeded in his mission of seeing just a bit more of the character Craig hides behind his icy shell.

"Hey, let's watch Moulin Rouge," Kenny suggests taking the opportunity to change what they are watching.

Craig shrugs in reply before crawling over and putting it in the player. He has already watched all the episodes of Red Racer anyway. He does not mind the change too much. Plus, he has never seen the film Kenny is talking about. It is one of Ruby's personal ones, so he never bothered with it. "We have to watch Red Racer afterwards although." Kenny simply groans in response and gets a middle finger from Craig as soon as he complains.

The film starts out, and Craig looks like his typical bored self. The expression seems to be a default. The one Craig uses in most circumstances. He prefers to look at the world as if he is not really a part of it, choosing to reside in a small part of his mind that ignored the dark corners there. He only shows that he is somewhat enjoying the film by grabbing a pillow and putting it in his lap as he watches. He sips slowly on yet another mug of cocoa (he grabs one during every single one of their interventions. Kenny is beginning to think he has an addiction), and his eyes are staring intently at the screen. Kenny swears he can see the ever so violet colour grow lighter as Craig watches the film.

Craig finds himself snorting at some scenes and tilting his head slightly at others. He is soon enraptured in the plot too much to even be aware he is reacting. Kenny is trying his best to watch the film with him, but his eyes keep darting to study the other's features. He only really begins paying attention to what is actually happening on the screen when it begins to advance to the end and their spin on the song "Roxanne" begins to play. He does not notice how Craig stiffens as Satine is thrown on the bed, or how he relaxes only when the Duke is hit in the head and on the ground.

Craig falls asleep at some point between then and the end. His head lops against the back of the couch and his eyes slide close. He hugs the pillow tightly, clutching it to his chest even as he loses himself to drowsiness. The blanket around him slopes off his shoulders, nearly falling before Kenny notices and crawls over to adjust it. Craig murmurs in his sleep again, the words incoherent on his drowsy tongue. Kenny can catch bits and pieces of his broken sentences as he sits next to him but not enough to understand.

Kenny is sitting remarkably close, always having been a physical-contact whore. Since Craig is asleep, he does not protest. Rather, he moves closer as he feels Kenny warmth. Kenny looks down in curious surprise as Craig shifts to move on Kenny's lap, his head nuzzling into his leg. He is staring, and then a small smile is on his face. His fingers begin to strum through the black hair there, not caring that when he knocks Craig's chullo off. He can hear Craig sigh softly in what he takes to be content.

The peacefulness lasts until Craig starts his horrible coughing again. It disturbs Kenny enough to lift the other up. It is not as if he could just leave him there. What kind of person would he be?

Craig is surprisingly light for his size; Kenny had thought he would be heavier. He frowns when he can feel Craig's ribs through his baggy yet thin attire. Ah, so Craig just does not eat much. Kenny wonders if he completely lives on hot cocoa. He hopes not.

He sighs and pushes his worry away.

Craig would not like if he asked any questions. The other is always pretending he does not care, and Kenny wonders if Craig just cares too much that it is more of a burden than anything else. He can feel Craig moving in his arms, curling into them and burying himself deeper in the comforting warmth.

Warmer, warmer, warmer. Craig wants to be warmer because it is just so cold wherever he is. He cannot honestly remember anymore. He is lost in whatever he is curling into. He can smell Pop tarts, cheap liquor, and Marlboros. Craig can also smell oranges, but he blames that on the fact that is what he typically feeds his guinea pig.

Kenny passes the guinea pig in a small cage on an old dresser as he prepares to drop Craig off on the bed. Then he runs into a problem; Craig is not letting go. There are hands latched, tangled into Kenny's parka as if it will hurt Craig to part from him. Kenny can hear Craig breathing harshly, and despite the stoic face he pulls when he is awake, there is pain on it now. It seems almost as if Craig cannot breathe. He cannot breathe and he is choking on the coughs and the memories and the things he holds so deep within himself as he struggles to find the air to breathe. Craig wants the warmth, but all he feels is cold.


	15. Chapter 15

"Shit," Craig curses as he finally wakes up. It takes him a while to realise the ceiling he is staring at is the one in his bedroom. Fever prevents him from really remembering anything from yesterday. He can remember playing in the snow and drinking cocoa... with Kenny?

Craig sits up a bit on his bed and rubs his temples. Ah, he is fuzzily putting together the bits and pieces now. He raises his eyes to gaze around the room and spots an orange parka resting on the chair next to his bed and a backpack as well. He moves a bit closer, crawling out of his sanctuary of blankets and quilts. When he reaches the floor, he is jolted slightly by the cold the carpet is on bare toes. He shivers and rubs his arms. Fuck. He should put on socks, but he honestly does not feel like doing that.

He manages to adjust after a few minutes of standing and walks over to the chair. Craig checks for any sign of Kenny (although he does not care if he is caught - not really). He is just curious what Kenny carries around with him all day. He is sure Kenny will not mind.

Maybe.

Craig opens up the bag and shifts through it. The bag is old and ripping with sewn-up holes crisscrossing it like war stitches. There are buttons covering it, which Craig thinks are mostly stolen from who-knows-where. The keychains on every zipper and loop make rattling noise as he pulls out notebooks and folders. Science, Maths, English... Craig never really thought of Kenny as organised before. Not enough to label his things at least. He finally reaches one notebook, more tattered than the rest, with no subject on it. He starts to open it and glimpses a sketch of Stark Pond. He keeps turning through it, looking at the various landscapes and people Kenny has doodled down. Most of them are scrawled in hurried ink, but others are pencils or splotches of watercolour. They are actually really good. He only stops when he hears footsteps in the hallway and the sound of laughter.

All right. Maybe Kenny will mind if Craig is messing with his things.

By the time Kenny and his grandmother walk into the room, Craig has hurried to put everything away and is pretending to mess with Stripes in his cage.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed Craig?" his Nana asks with a worried furrow of her brows. She places a bowl of soup on the nightstand then goes over to feel his forehead with her hand. "You're still hot. The McCormick kid said he found you outside." Her voice is hushed and gives Kenny a subtle glance as she mentions him. Craig follows her gaze with his own matching eyes. He nods and looks back at her.

Kenny is fine. Craig really does not mind if he stays.

Kenny is watching the quiet communication silently from his view in the doorway. He can hear the whispers and can see the slight glances in his direction. He wonders what they are talking about. The whispers are indistinguishable, but the glances giving him an idea. Eyes catch his, and his breath catches in his throat. He is not sure what overcame him, but the eyes tell him that he will never really understand it even if he tried. They are unfathomable blue-tainted violet and piercing.

"You can stay for dinner if you want," Craig says his eyes still in a steady deadlock with Kenny's. He breaks it when he stands up and walks out the room, disappearing down the hallway. Kenny is staring after him with an expression in his eyes he cannot even understand. Craig seems to pull him in a way he cannot really seem to grasp. He thought he understood in the beginning, but now he is not so sure what to think anymore.

Kenny pushes the thoughts away before he just confuses himself. He can always think of it later. Right now, he only wants to accept Craig's dinner invitation. Free food is free food, and the dining company does not sound too bad either.

After a few more minutes of thought, Kenny walks to the kitchen. Craig is tinkering with his Nana's ancient stove when he comes in, a skillet full of vegetables and a tea kettle on the stove. He sits down at the table, throwing an unseen glance at the girl across from him. Ruby is only staring at the empty plate in front of her. She refuses to glance up even when Kenny asks how she is. She scoffs instead, pushing her plate away. "I'm not hungry," she states in a monotone as she leaves.

Kenny stares after her with a frown, but their grandmother seems used to it. She simply sighs and helps Craig finish, taking over the vegetables as he pours boiling from the kettle into waiting mugs. He places a cup of vanilla chai in front of Kenny and leaves to take one to his sister. His grandmother finishes up setting food on the plates, while he is gone. She sits down and sends Kenny a small smile.

Craig comes back and glances at Kenny before sitting. He looks down at his food with a face that is seemingly impassive, but Kenny swears he sees a subtle bite of his lip every now and again.

Silence builds and rests over the three of them to create a heavy atmosphere. Kenny is not sure how long they sit there like that, but at some point he just cannot stand it anymore and decides to shatter it with a random topic. "So... what's your favourite precipitation?"

Craig looks up at him, fork on his lips ready to take a bite. He removes it and tilts his head slightly in silent, apathetic questioning. His eyes are ambivalent violet as he pushes an unsure, quiet monotone from his resisting throat. "Rain..." He looks down again as soon as he says it, but Kenny refuses to let the conversation die there.

"I like the rain too," Kenny says with a small smile after taking a bite of the food in front of him. "Except, I miss the stars." The words are said with a hint of remorse, the smile of a daydreamer now on his lips. It is lazy and hopeful, his eyes resting on the one in front of him even when he brings a mug of chai to his lips and the transparent smoke hides him oh so slightly.

Craig does not openly do it, but he is now looking at Kenny back. The peripherals of his view, his eyes appearing to be on his plate, trace the curves of Kenny's lips, to the arch of his nose, and then to his dancing, twirling, ever-so-lively, too blue eyes. Craig is not sure how, but he finds himself talking a little more, than a little more, than a lot more until all traces of the quiet deadpan he had before disappeared. His eyes are still on the plate, but his face is giving way to subtleties. The slight upturning of the corners of his mouth show the hint of a smile, a snort or scoff in disbelief, and then there are his eyes, which are much like Kenny's when he allows them to be. They have always been cheating, giving away the emotions he tries so hard to store away.

At some point, a flitting laugh darts from Craig's mouth at something Kenny said. It surprises Kenny more than it does Craig. He is too engaged in what they are talking about to even consider his small out of character action, or maybe it is in his character. Whatever it was, Kenny wants to hear it again. He just forgot how to do it. Kenny just laughs with him, still laughing even when Craig's dies. He only manages to subdue it when his eyes catch sight of the clock on the wall. He curses in a whisper, standing up quickly. "I have to go." He puts his dishes in the sink before looking at Craig with an apologetic grin. "Thanks and see ya Tucker." He waves before going to run down the hallway.

It is only when he is tossing on his parka and almost out the door, does Craig decide to stand up. He runs to the doorframe, his monotone laced in a hopeless hopefulness that he pretends the wind hides as he calls out to the fading orange lost in snow. "Bye Kenny!" he yells and breaks whatever imaginary rule he invented to never become too familiar with anyone. There is a slight churning in his stomach when he does, but it is buried with the wave of glove-fingered disappearing with the orange blur they belong to down the sidewalk.

Craig stands there in the doorway until he is sure that the sidewalk is empty once again. Maybe, he had just not been able to let go until he saw orange completely disappear behind blurring white. A small, unheard sigh leaves his lips as he finally closes the door.


	16. Chapter 16

The next days creep by slowly. Craig spends them staring out his bedroom window in that empty manner he always has. He moves every now and again to write scraps of his dreams on sheets of loose-leaf paper that are now scattered all over his side of the bed and some of the floor. He never looks back on the words, just needs to get them out of his head before they pile and overflow. Ruby is wary of stepping on them, but Craig does not really care. What matters is that his mind is releasing them somehow. Even if he refuses to talk about it. Then he feels better, well enough to go to school, and he is too glad for it. Much too glad for it. Ruby has been looking at him with her same unreadable expression, but now there is something else behind it. Craig has the ability to see it, but his mind is too filled with thoughts that do not seem to really make sense. He is still hesitant to think them, but they are there all the same.

"You seem happy," Ruby says through a cigarette closed between their lips. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets, and Craig is beside her with his hands in his. He has one earbud in his ear and hums along to the song he is listening to. He is in a better mood than usual, but he is not sure why nor does he really want to think about it. He looks over at Ruby when the statement is spoken, taking the fag from her lips to place in his own mouth.

Smoke escapes from his chapped lips and form artistic circles around Craig's head before he returns the stolen cigarette. "What gave you that idea?" he asks with a slight smile teasing his lips. Ruby does not return it, her eyes suddenly hostile rather than their chilling indifference. Craig does not see it, only hears the silence that is the answer to his question.

"I think I'm gonna skip today," Ruby finally says as they reach the door. "You're fine right?" Her eyes do not meet his; they are focused on the snow-covered pavement beneath their canvas sneakers. She can feel the nod she receives without even seeing it. She does not return his wave as he continues to his own school or her friend's as she beckons her to join her on the middle school steps. She only turns in the opposite direction, the smoke trailing behind her as she walks across the street and to the other sidewalk.

Craig watches her go before walking to the high school. He has gotten used to the whispers in the crowded halls, but for the first time, rather than just being indifferent to them he really does not care. He only gives them the slightest attention, picking up when he hears feet following him down the hall. He manages to stay impassive as he ducks into the boy's bathroom and locking the stall door behind him. He climbs atop the toilet seat and tugs his legs up to his chest.

He recognises them. He can see glimpses of his face in the cracks of the stall door and the bandage on one of their heads. He holds his breath as they begin to try each lock. When they reach his, it rattles rather than opens and a swift kick is thrown at it. Craig winces as if the kick was thrown at him. Might as well been.

Craig knows how to stay quiet as he listens to their taunts. Vulgarities that he has already gotten too used to to even feel the sting of them any more. He watches the door with blank eyes, every bend and crack makes him push farther into the wall.

"Fuck!" he hears one of them yell as the bell rings. "You can't always hide out in there Tucker!" There is another kick, and Craig is almost afraid the door will swing open. He is grateful when it doesn't. He really did not want bruises to spoil his mood.

Craig only steps down from the toiler seat once he is sure they are gone. His fingers hover in hesitation over the lock of the bathroom door before he slides it over and pushes it open harshly, just in case someone is still waiting for him.

There isn't. There is no one in the bathroom and no one in the halls. Everyone has left for their classes. Craig almost joins them, but the thought of walking in on so many people makes his stomach churn. He can afford to ditch a few periods and hide out in the counselling office. At least the head shrinks are good for that.

The counsellor does not bother to ask anything as he flops down in the chair in front of her. All she does is give him a smile and nod as hello before he sighs and tosses his head back. "How is life Craig?" she asks, but as usual, Craig does not answer. She should expect this by how many times the teenager regularly visits her office. She asks questions, but he only answers in silence or one-word sentences.

The hours of silence pass and the bells ring, Craig never leaving his chair. He falls asleep on and off, and it is only then the counsellor really had a chance to study Craig's maskless face. She notes the arm digging and the deep, gasping breaths that push past his lips. When he wakes back up, his expression blanks once again, and he resumes staring silently at the ceiling. He moves sometimes - from the chair to the floor to the chair again.

She asks him between each period whether or not he wants to head back to class, but each time she is answered in the same empty silence. He only gets up the last minute before his Chemistry class starts. The halls are nearly empty as he ducks into the room just as the bell rings. He tosses the teacher a tardy slip from guidance before she can object or send him to the office for his many accumulating late slips. Honestly, he can care less, but if he misses school too often without an excuse, a social worker will visit his Nana's house. Craig really does not want that.

He sits down beside Kenny at their table, placing his head down as soon as the teacher resumes teaching. "Don't bother me, McCormick," he says through the muffling sleeves of his coat. Kenny is offended slightly at the words, but he cannot hear any venom in them, only the warning signs of irritation. Craig seems to be genuinely tired from hiding out all day and doing nothing. Despite that, Kenny does not bother to listen.

A note slips beneath Craig's arm. He sits up and looks down at the note before stealing Kenny's pencil for his own use. His hands manouevre the pencil to form the intricate curls and loops of his response. He passes the note back to Kenny, then resumes to staring at the teacher from the folds of his arms.

A smile crosses Kenny's lips as he reads what Craig had written. He adds more to the note, this one complete with doodles of a flying dragon spitting out stoichiometry equations. He slips it back to Craig and sees the slight turn of straight-lined lips holding back a smile. Craig adds his own badly drawn doodle to the mix, adding a note of how much better Kenny is at self-portraits.

"Oh really?" Kenny writes before passing it back.

"Yes. You're good at drawing," Craig replies honestly, but this time out loud. The teacher has opened time for "discussion of the lesson," but Craig had interpreted it as free talk. He lops his head, so it is tilted up to the one beside him. "What do you usually draw?"

Kenny looks surprised at the question, and maybe he is. Not too many people know about his secret talent. "At the moment - people. Sleeping people, moving people, just people." Kenny likes to capture the life, the expression on others' faces and freeze it in time with scrawls of pencil, charcoal, ink or whatever he could just draw with. In a drawing, the hidden facets to anyone can be revealed. "What about you Mr. Craig Tucker, what do you usually do with your time? It has to be something you like." He adds the last bit in case Craig decides to be a smartass and say he is usually doing homework or something like that.

Craig looks away and stares at the front of the room. "Write. Photograph. Peoplewatch. Stargaze. Other nice, boring shit," he answers with a small shrug. He answered honestly, not feeling the need to hide his hobbies from someone who asked so earnestly. Besides, Kenny already knew about his stargazing hobby from their conversation several nights before.

Kenny smiles softly. He seems to always be smiling. Craig finds himself minding this less and less as their conversations became more and more frequent. At some point, the room falls apart, and Craig simply forgets everything as he allows himself to be swept into Kenny's inescapable amiability. Soon, Kenny knows that Craig prefers an animal's company over a person's, that he helps out with the animal homeless shelter up in Denver on most weekends, that he hates ice cream (especially Moose Tracks), and has an odd fondness for vintage films to add to his odd fondness of children's cartoons. Craig finds himself finding out more about Kenny in return. Kenny's favourite colour is actually yellow, not orange, he loves sherbet, he has several pet cats (that he no longer gets high off of thanks to finding the habit revolting due to the "kind" opinion of his sister), and he has two siblings, Karen and Kevin, who he will not trade for the world.

Time slips quickly; the class ends before either one of them realise it. Craig gets up first and bids Kenny goodbye with a wave, already prepared to return to solitude in the guidance office. Kenny smiles and waves back enthusiastically. Perhaps too soon, since his childhood friends are now giving him an odd look. It is Kyle who is the first to say anything, his all too familiar curly ponytail and subtle freckles placed in Kenny's vision before he can ever make it to the door.

"What. Was. That?" Kyle asks finding it necessary to enunciate every word with emphasis. The shrug he receives does not seem to be enough of a response. He repeats the question, his eyes accusing. Kenny opens his mouth to speak, but Karen is there so suddenly, in the school window and banging on it with her ungloved hands. Kenny's head whips toward her, his attention stolen away by her tearstained face and coatless arms.

He pushes past Kyle, and he mumbles a quick apology before forcing himself out the school doors. Craig sees him pass, the blond having successfully knocking over a number of students who had clogged the halls. It would have caused a commotion in any school but South Park's. Each student is already used to these types of things. Craig is the only one who finds a need to follow and slip out the back door just like he does every time he decides to suddenly ditch school unnoticed. His feet follow the sounds of Kenny and Karen's excited voices, stopping when he reaches the bridge above Stark's Pond.

There is a scream, a loud one, which slices through the night air.


	17. Chapter 17

It takes Craig a while to realise it is him. Ruby is floating face-down in the water, and he is screaming louder and and more desperate as he moves to dive in after her. There is suddenly an arm around his waist, locking him there on the bridge. He had not even noticed Kenny move. Craig can suddenly feel himself falling apart and attempts to shabbily glue himself back together. He has to keep control. There keeps telling himself to stay calm, but he finds it hard as his screams dissolve into the silent gasping sort of sobs.

A hand combs through his hair, and he wants that to be enough to ease him. He wants that to be enough to tell him that nothing is wrong. That everything is just how it usually is. He wants Kenny to tell him that there is another girl with red pigtails and an olive petticoat that lives in South Park. It is not Ruby. It cannot be Ruby. Ruby is all he had. He wants Ruby.

The wail that suddenly tears from his mouth is one so desperate it sounds like he is dying. There are no tears, just dry heaves from his throat and the wailing, that animalistic cry, as sirens scream closer and closer from their place in the distance. He has calmed by the time the sirens near, his face managing to put back together a shaky sense of its normalcy as the rescue team scrambles to fish the girl from the pond.

Craig cannot move from his place in Kenny's arms as he watches silently. He cannot say anything, throat too raw and torn to even try. The hands that clutch him are telling him if they let go, he will just slip away. Craig folds into them even more as the stretcher drags her inside the ambulance, and they drive off to Hell Pass hospital to try and do whatever they think they can to save her.

Karen is alone and crying quietly into her hands as they leave. Her cries are different than Craig's, not gasping but whispering with heavy tears that leak between the gaps of her fingers and falling into the snow. Kenny wants to move toward her, but at the same time he cannot afford to let Craig go. It is Karen who first manages to collect herself and move toward them. She helps Kenny uproot Craig from his spot where he has simply been staring at the place where Ruby once floated in.

They manage to get him all the way home. Karen is not really sure how, but they manage. Craig began to walk at some point, his movements robotic as he unlocks the house door. He keeps walking before locking the bathroom door behind him. He slides down until he can feel (or not feel rather) the hard linoleum beneath his jeans. He wants to cry, but the tears seem to be gone now. He feels hollow, and a hurt he wants to identify, but cannot. His hands reach up and they dig into the skin on his face leaving red, crescent moons everywhere. His breath comes out shallow, deep, and gasping as he tries to make himself cry. The gasps become heaving sobs without tears and then a screaming wail into his knees again.

Craig does not move from his spot and can only make strangled, choked noises from his dry throat after about three hours of the wailing into his legs. He wants to be sick, to vomit into the porcelain bowl beside him, but he does nothing but lie on his grandmother's soft, lavender bathroom rug and smells the scent of disinfectant mixed with too much air freshener.

At some point, Craig starts to drift off. He never bothered to turn on that bathroom light. It is dark, darker, and darker still as time eases his wounded memories with tired eyes that sag and close. He hardly notices how he does his old habit of scrunching up into a ball and burying his head in his knees.

Honestly, he does not notice anything.

(His heart hurts,  
his mind hurts,  
everything hurts, hurts,  
is hurting.)


	18. Chapter 18

Kenny is the one to find him curled up there. He walks in to see a skewed chullo cap and a face that looks like it has been through war. He nearly trips over the lump that is Craig, the lump that was Craig before he shattered and crumbled into his own indifferent façade. Craig is curled into a loose ball, the tenseness of it gone now. He exhausted himself to blank dreams, now too tired to do anything but sleep.

A sigh passes Kenny lips as he kneels beside him. He pokes Craig once to see if that would stir him, but all it accomplishes is making Craig turn over. The corners of Kenny's mouth turn down, a slight change from the line they had been in before. For a moment, he considers picking Craig up, but he decides against it. He picks up a hesitant hand and brushes it against Craig's forehead. Craig hardly even stirs, too lost in his own subconscious.

A light brush of his lips against Craig's forehead as he leans down. He hums a lullaby he made so very long ago for Karen when she was frightened. He keeps humming as he sits up and leaves to grab a blanket to cover Craig with. He passes Karen, asleep on the couch, as he snags the quilted coverlet that rests on Craig's grandmother's bed.

A small smirk leaves Kenny's mouth as he sees how Craig looks so vulnerable, so illegally adorable beneath the blanket. His head pokes out, the red crescents colouring his pale skin. Vulnerable innocence. Behind everything that Craig makes himself out to be, Kenny sees down deep, beneath the layers of curses and coarse attitude, Craig just cares too much about all the little things, about the nothing. Oh yes. He can see that Craig the noirette hides from everyone else, and once he caught a glimpse of _that_ Craig, he wanted all of him.

"Tell me." The words are murmured in a breath as Kenny closes his eyes. He wants Craig to tell him everything. To tell him how he is who he is, and not who he wants to be. He wants him to tell him how he worries over everyone before himself, how he wishes that things can be better than what they are now. He wants Craig to tell him...

"I love you."

The words are not said, merely mouthed as Kenny finds himself disappearing into dreams of pencil sketching portraits that will never look nearly as good as the one they portray.


	19. Chapter 19

Craig wakes up first and stumbles to his feet. He does not even see Kenny as he struggles up, his mind hazy and hard to pick through. His thoughts are lost in a heavy fog.

Cocoa. He needs his cocoa.

He does not know how he winds up in the kitchen, only that he is there and that peppermint cocoa is scorching down his throat, burning his tongue. It is scalding in his mouth, but he cannot feel anything but the need to drown out whatever he is feeling in the strong flavour of it.

Then he fixes another and another. The beverage is no longer a comfort, but an insatiable want as he soaks in it. He drops his mug to the counter when footsteps come behind him. Ruby? He hopes it is Ruby. He turns with eyes wanting to see those unsmiling indigo eyes and red hair.

Then his eyes die. The light inside of them dies along with a bit of him. Karen. It is Kenny's little sister he sees rather than his own. "Hi," he says before stepping past her not aware of the mess he has left on the counter.

He absently licks a finger as he walks down the hall and throws open doors. His movements become more frantic by the time he reaches his own room. When he reaches the front door, it is thrown open with such violence it nearly shakes loose from its hinges. "Ruby!" He yells her name hoping she will hear him. All that before: the pond; and the drowning; and the note, none of that had really happened. He had another one of those vicious nightmares. "Ruby!"

There is no answer, but Craig is still calling in his monotone that grows higher and higher in pitch with each call. The only reason he stops is that hands grab around his throat. He is choking on air, on oxygen and forgets to breathe. His lungs collapse in his chest as he falls to his knees, gasping desperately. He reaches up to his face and begins to claw desperately at his skin. He draws more red crescents on his face, but then they begin to crawl down his arm.

He stops clawing as he racks his entire body with gasps. He has to pull the hands from around his throat and remember how to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Like what Ruby had taught him to do. He has to breathe, count the breaths as they passed his lips. He is up to 109 when he stops counting and just breathes. Shallow breaths pass his lips as he goes limp on the floor.

"It wasn't a dream... Was it?"

Craig's violet eyes look over at the figure that had thought he had gone unnoticed. Kenny stares at him and finds he is unable to say those words. He hardly is able to keep looking Craig in those oh-so-sad eyes. It takes him all of his willpower to give Craig a sad smile that says everything.

Craig begins to count his breaths again.

Kenny sits beside him by 32, watching the stoic teenager's lips move to form each number. He lies down silently, and takes one more glance at Craig before he joins in with the counting. Karen comes in, all puffy-eyed with tussled hair, to sit with them after three dozen more counts. She is not trying to count with them, but she matches her breaths with theirs.

She is the first to fall asleep. Her breath has gone shallow after forty-five minutes of counting, and now she is curled around Craig's arm. Craig takes a glance at her, at her closed, swollen eyes and slightly parted lips. She looks like Ruby for a second, but Craig shakes the thought before it can form into something he cannot handle. He turns to face Kenny, but only for a second before he gets up and crawls into the bed to sleep just a little more...


	20. Chapter 20

A little more grows into a lot more. Craig has been in the bed for three weeks. He has been counting by the plates that always appear beside him when he wakes up. He never eats anything on them, but the plates are always changing. A blue plate, a green plate, a yellow plate with violet poppies... Many different plates with food on them, his favourites, but he still cannot bring himself to eat any of it. Today the plate is white with a rose etched into the porcelain. A hesitant finger reaches out from thick coverlets to touch it.

Freezing.

Craig hisses at the cold of it before tugging his hand back beneath the blankets. He closes his eyes to return back to his dream of black and empty eyes and cold hands reaching out of diluted red water. When he opens them again, he finds a blond mop of hair on the edge of his bed. That same curious hand, the one that had touched the plate, reaches out and strums through the hair.

It does not take long before baby blue skies look up at him. "How ya doin' there sleepyhead?" He reaches a hand up and takes Craig's into it, intertwining their fingers. Craig still looks extremely tired. So tired he does not even bother to tug his hand away.

"Shit," Craig finally says after a while. He tugs the blankets up over him more. He is cold.

He remembers his grandmother telling him they will not be seeing Ruby for a while. The doctors say Ruby does not want to see anyone, and that hurts more than Craig knowing that she was in pain and not helping. She does not want him anymore. His grandmother said it will all work itself out, but Craig cannot see her hopeful light at the end of his dark tunnel of existence.

He closes his eyes underneath the sheets and tries not to think about it. He opens them when he feels the mattress shifting as Kenny sits up on the bed.

"Want cocoa? I'll make you some," Kenny says stretching. He has been sleeping by Craig's bedside for quite a while to make sure he does not follow in Ruby's footsteps. This is the first time Craig spotted him although. The eyes that are staring at him had a cold nonchalance to it. They are the same sombre black eyes that had looked at the police that night, but rather than chilling Kenny, they sadden him. He looks away. "I'll be right back okay?"

Craig does not nod. He merely breaks the eye contact to stare at the wall across from him instead. He is still staring blankly when Kenny came back with a cup of hot chocolate. Kenny sits on the edge of the bed and places the still hot mug next to the porcelain plate laden with now cold food. "Craig."

Craig does not move in response.

"Craig?"

Kenny moves closer and pushes the blankets down. Craig is staring at the wall, and Kenny brings his face closer. That sadness and those sombre black eyes. Kenny wants them to go back to what he is used to seeing. Still, with how much that long ago kiss had terrified Craig, he does not want to attempt that again. He has to take it slow. He has to...

He puts his head down against Craig's, their foreheads touching. He wants him to feel better. "Craig?" The words have grown softer, a whisper against the pale skin. "Drink some of the chocolate. Just a little."

Craig is hesitant, but he stirs and sits up, allowing Kenny's head to land in his lap. He stares down at the blond with something unreadable in his eyes. Hesitantly he lifts up the mug and puts it to his mouth. It burns his lips and scalds down his throat, but he continues to drink it. His body is numb, and he hardly feels the tingling feeling it leaves on his lips. He wants to forget about Ruby. Just for a second. He misses and wants her there with him so badly. He wants to be reassured that his sister loves him and still wants him there rather than that hollow 'Don't come and see me'.

Craig stares down at his now empty mug and tries to make a shape out of the chocolate resin and peppermint bits.

He lets his hands fall when Kenny takes his mug and places it on the counter. His body slumps and falls against Kenny's chest on the bed. He breathes softly into Kenny's shirt. He does not cry. He does not heave; he just stays like that taking one paced breath before the other.

When he moves to pull back, Kenny stops him by placing a hand on his cheek. Craig stares, the sombre black eyes now ambivalent indigo, and Kenny sees pain, so much naked hurt right in front of him. That stabbing feeling is there again in his chest. He gets that unexplainable urge again. He tells himself to stop, that this will not help Craig at all, to take it slow, but he leans up and gently places his lips against Craig's.

He remembers to stop when he feels Craig shaking. He parts their lips, and before Craig runs away he wraps his arms around tight around the still trembling figure. He can feel Craig's hand digging into his chest. He judges the other's calmness level by how deep the nails dig through his shirt. He waits until all he feels is a sting before slowly loosening his hold.

Craig slides down even farther and lets himself lay with his face buried in Kenny's abdomen. Strangely, he does not feel that familiar guilt this time, and he wonders why. "Kenny," he says in a broken monotone muffled by fabric. "I want to go back." He wants it to be the way that it had been before. Despite all the hurt, the pain and how all of it just quietly smothered away his emotions and personality, he was comfortable with it. It was 'normal.' It was not this uneasy, shaky ambivalence that rocked him out of that normalcy into who-am-I-anymore.

The sound of breathing is all that is in the room as Kenny finds himself devoid of words.

Craig continues. "I want Ruby here. I want my mom. I want my friends. I want to stop all this fucking crying. I have never cried so much in my fucking life," and Craig feels his eyes burning. He sits up, so that he can press the heels of his palms to his eyes. He refuses to allow himself to cry. "I fucking hate this. I hate this so much. I-"

"Tell me what you like."

The statement halts Craig's words. "What?"

"What do you like Craig Tucker?"

The name rolls off of Kenny's tongue and to Craig's ears, a faint hick tang in there that Craig seems to be noticing more and more now. Kenny is gazing at him with something Craig does not recognise. The unfamiliarity of it scares of him.

"Craig, do you like me?"


End file.
